Of Dogs and Death
by clayfish32
Summary: Post Living Doll with a little shift in time. Really it's how I want them to have gotten their dog...COMPLETE
1. Chapter 1

"Hey Griss, what's this I hear about you being gone for a few weeks? Didn't you already get that sabbatical thing our of your system?"

The gang was all present in the break room when Grissom walked in and handed them each an assignment with a memo scrawled at the bottom. "DB in Henderson, suspicious circs…BTW I'll be out of town for a few weeks. G."

Nick looked up from his slip of paper almost as soon as he got it.

Grissom may have come back last time—but again? And so soon?

His supervisor sighed and held up his hand gesturing for silence.

"I am going to do a tour of Universities on the East Coast. Believe it or not the fact that we caught the Miniature Killer is national news. Forensic experts and those in training are quite interested in this one because it is SO different from anything we in our field have ever seen. I've been instructed to talk to students, coroners, and other labs about what exactly we've seen with this. The Behavioral Analysis Unit of the FBI are also interested in speaking with me about Natalie. I'll also be doing some entomological seminars along the way."

"Oh," he added as a near afterthought, "and Sara's coming with me."

"Cause she's your giiiiirrrrrrrrrrrl—friend!" Greg blurted our in a sing-song voice. A mortified look crossed his face the moment it left his lips and he shrunk back behind a smirking Catherine to await his sure to follow punishment.

"No," a suddenly serious Grissom stated, "she's coming because she survived. She could use a little time off, and," Grissom surprised them all by winking at a now terrified Greg, "yes Greg, because she's my girlfriend." With that he grabbed Sara's waist and pulled her to him in a quick hug.

Eyes rolled across the room. Ever since Grissom's slip-up when Sara went missing, he no longer seemed to care what anyone thought about his relationship with her.

Sara shrugged and smiled coyly as she watched the situation unfold, but any embarrassment at being the center of attention didn't stop her from leaning into Grissom for a quick peck on the cheek. He just stood there with the biggest grin on his face.

Folding her arms and leaning on one hip Catherine shook her head, "So, when does this one start?

Grissom gave her his best "do-you-really-need-to-ask" look. "Now."

And without another word he grabbed Sara's hand and pulled her out of the room leaving behind a group of dumbstruck but snickering CSIs.

TBC…


	2. Chapter 2

* * *

**Disclaimer:** I do not now, nor have I ever owned anything CSI, much to my dismay.

**A/N: **This is my first fanfic. I hope it lives up to your expectations.

Grissom sighed and lay back against the headrest closing his eyes.

It had only taken an hour and a half for them to leave the lab, get home, throw things in a couple of suitcases, and head out the door.

Now he could relax. Everything was done and their first seminar wasn't to take place for three days. That gave him three whole days of uninterrupted time alone with Sara.

He sighed again-just for good measure.

Life was good.

* * *

Sara glanced at him as she slid into the driver's side of the Denali. He looked SO out of it. His eyes were closed and hidden beneath the brim of his hat-which had slid down slightly and was resting on his nose.

'Boy' she thought, 'he needs this time off as much as I do.'

She smiled as she looked him over again. His normally straight backed-knees together posture had been replaced with a slouch and his legs fell apart to either side.

Starting the car she slid her hand to rest lightly on his left thigh. He surprised her by gripping her wrist when she went to pull away-and, holding her hand in place, entwining their fingers.

He opened one eye and glanced at her, smirking. "Caughtcha red handed."

She replied by waggling her eyebrows. "Later, I promise. Right now we have a plane to catch. She shifted into gear and they were on their way. Free of the city and the crazies that came out to play at night. For now, anyway.

* * *

They made it to the airport in record time. Fingers still entwined, Grissom shifted slightly when they came to a stop in long term parking, a small snore escaping his lips.

He could be so cute sometimes.

Sara leaned over and kissed him lightly before whispering, "Wake up lover boy. We don't want to miss our plane."

Keeping his eyes closed he pulled her hand to his lips and delicately kissed each finger before meeting her gaze and releasing her hand. He couldn't believe he was so lucky.

"You're right," he said, "We definitely don't want to miss _this_ plane."

* * *

After checking their bags the couple made their way to Concourse C to await boarding.

As they sat in the uncomfortable airport waiting seats Grissom draped an arm around Sara's shoulders and gently squeezed.

She looked up from the list of things they could do in their spare time with a questioning look.

"What?" she asked somewhat suspiciously.

A sly smile slowly played across his lips.

"Did I _say_ anything?" he asked innocently.

"You're going to be trouble aren't you?"

"Only the best kind," he retorted grinning like a fool.

"Good," she said looking back down at her list. An eyebrow quirked, "that's what I was hoping for."

The next thing they knew their section was being called and they found themselves comfortably seated (Grissom had sprung for first class seats) and on their way to the Eastern Seaboard.

* * *

Sara watched him sleep for a good long while.

Really, she loved to watch him. She loved to see him looking so content.

He stirred and reached for her hand. She gladly gave it over.

Sara smiled. He'd been doing that a lot lately. In bed he would stir, reach for her in his sleep, and only calm down when she was flush against his chest. At work or in the car he would just reach out to her and grab her hand from time to time. It was like he just needed some small assurance that she was still there.

Her abduction seemed to have bothered him more than it had her. His stoic façade was crumbling and he didn't even care.

Sara looked out the window into the cloudless night. It was really beautiful. She reached into her pocked with her free hand and pulled out the folded up slip of paper to read once more.

Ever one for efficiency and equality, Grissom had handed Sara a memo that morning as well. The difference was that instead of reading like a normal assignment, hers read:

You. Me. On a plane to Cambridge. Three full days ALONE.

Who loves ya Baby?

ME. (G.)

Yes, he had actually drawn a heart around the G. It was so adorable that she had to smile to herself again.

"What are you smiling at?"

She wasn't sure when he'd woken up. He hadn't moved an inch. Still…

"You know, you didn't _need_ to give me a memo Babe."

She kissed his cheek adding, "but it is the BEST memo I've ever gotten."

His face deepened in color for a moment. He still couldn't get over the fact that she thought he was even remotely good looking-never mind hot. He'd never been "Babe" before. He was a grey-ok white haired middle aged man for pete's sake.

He shuddered—only she could do this to him. Turn him into a blushing, shuddering, pile of goo.

Yes, ladies and gentlemen, Gil Grissom is absolutely a man head over heels in love with his subordinate, his confidante, his lover, his best friend, his…Sara. Yes. His Sara.

That's all he wanted her to be. His.

* * *

**TBC **after I get back from a hike this weekend… 


	3. Chapter 3

**Disclaimer:** I do not now, nor have I ever owned anything CSI, much to my dismay.

**A/N: **I have not yet gotten close to the actual STORY part of it. I like details and so far the setup has been nice.

Hang with me and the title _WILL_ make sense later. This is my first (and depending on how it goes possibly _last_) fanfic. I hope it lives up to your expectations.

* * *

He was an observer.

His Uncle Herb had taught him about that.

True his mother had taught him about body language and the like-being deaf did make one notice things-but Uncle Herb had taken observation to another level entirely.

Not only was Uncle Herb a plumber, he was also an avid bird watcher. As a child Grissom had accompanied his uncle into the woods many an occasion. His primary focus had been looking for new bugs for his collection, but a young Gil Grissom also picked up the finer points of observation; noting the little differences that made one creature entirely different than another.

It was something he excelled at.

This, among other things, had led him to a career as a CSI.

Yes, observing was one of the things he did best.

So here he was sitting against the headboard in this exquisite room, crossword long discarded on the floor, observing the love of his life.

'I really should call Uncle Herb and thank him" he thought as he watched her sleep.

* * *

"How long have you been watching me?"

He smiled. Her eyes were still closed.

He scooted down and pulled her back until she was flush against his chest and wrapped his arms around her.

"I'm afraid I don't know what you're talking about, Dear."

Truth was, once they'd gotten to the B&B and unpacked both of them had fallen unceremoniously onto the four-poster king sized bed without a second thought as to time or agenda.

He'd gotten enough rest in the car and on the plane and was more than content to watch her catch up to him so they could play.

Sara lifted her head and looked at him over her shoulder. "Seriously Griss, how long have I been out?"

He glanced at the little clock that stood on the antique desk in the corner of the room.

"About an hour and a half, give or take…"

She turned in his arms to face him and gave him a once over.

"You've been watching me sleep for an hour and a half and didn't think you might want to wake me up so we can get this show on the road?" she asked suspiciously. It wasn't like him to let precious time slip past unused.

"What's the hurry? Our three uninterrupted days don't technically start until tomorrow. I want you fully rested and able to enjoy every moment of our time together and…" he placed two fingers over her lips before she could interrupt, "believe it or not one of my favorite things in the whole world is watching you sleep. Besides, you needed it Baby. You've been going non-stop for far too long." He finished and started playing with an errant strand of hair before placing a kiss tenderly on the tip of her nose.

She cupped his cheek and caressed his lips with her thumb before replacing it with her own lips.

"When did you get all sentimental on me? You really are going to be trouble aren't you?"

"You have NO idea."

And she didn't. Not even the slightest clue.

* * *

Sorry this one's so short. Well, sorry the others have been short as well. Hopefully the next will be MUCH longer. I really don't want this to turn into a million chapters! ;o) Time's a bugger!!! 


	4. Chapter 4

**Disclaimer:** I do not now, nor have I ever owned anything CSI, much to my dismay.

**A/N: **I'm struggling with waiting for more _story_ -and posting what I've got**…**I have still not yet gotten to the actual STORY part of it, but I DO know where it's going. It's just taking some time to get there.

Hang with me and the title _WILL_ make sense later. This is my first (and depending on how it goes possibly _last_) fanfic.

Here goes.

* * *

Fully rested and freshly showered, Sara and Grissom decided to look at their options for the next few days. They were completely open—except, Grissom had only just informed her, tomorrow night at which time he had already made plans.

Her first reaction was to be hurt-until he pulled her into his lap and explained very delicately that any plans he'd made would undoubtedly, absolutely, and undeniably involve her. After that and a long slow kiss of forgiveness for the misunderstanding there were no further thoughts about it.

At least-on her part there weren't.

He still had one or two details to work out.

* * *

The next day went by in a whirlwind.

They'd woken up, showered, dressed, and hit the ground running with a few stops to a bakery and deli for breakfast and lunch respectively.

After lunch they decided to take a break from sightseeing and went to a local park near their current place of residence.

Grissom did spend a good half an hour on his cell-though with whom Sara did not know, but their time was otherwise spent strolling arm in arm, stopping to look at peculiar bugs, sitting on park benches to people watch, or simply relishing the fact that they were actually doing this 'being-a-couple-in-public' thing.

It was refreshing and, to Grissom's surprise and ultimate joy, quite freeing.

* * *

"So, when are you gonna tell me what we're doing tonight?"

They were comfortably sprawled on the grass under a tree in a remote spot in the park. They'd been lying there just enjoying each other's company and he'd been quietly stroking her hair while she ran her hand lightly across his chest and played with the hem of his shirt.

Her question did not catch him off guard. In fact, he was quite proud of her for having lasted so long without asking.

His hand stilled and he quirked an eyebrow, "Do you really want to spoil the surprise?"

"I guess not." She sighed. "I'd just like to know what I should be thinking about wearing. It's not like I have a whole lot of choices…I didn't bring my whole closet with me…you know?"

He smiled and kissed the top of her head before resuming his task of stroking her hair.

"That, my Dear, is something you don't need to worry about, but I will tell you this: tonight I am going to share one of my passions with the one I am most passionate about."

She frowned, while it delighted her to no end that he was "most passionate" about her-she still had no idea what he was talking about.

* * *

The sight took her breath away.

He was a breath of fresh air, a cool breeze in the desert, an oasis after miles of cacti and sand, and a gazillion other clichés that popped into her head the moment she saw him.

She sat on the bed and pretended to fiddle with her show, but truth be told-he made her knees weak and she could no longer stand on her own.

The bed dipped as he sat along side her and rubbed her knee gently. She looked up cautiously and saw the glint in his eyes, but he leaned in and whispered "I confess, I'm glad this evening will consist mostly of sitting. I don't think my knees would last with you in the same room."

Her eyes went wide and he kissed her cheek adding, "You're breathtaking."

She blushed looking down. She was clad in a deep red floor length dress with spaghetti straps. She hadn't brought it with her for the trip. In fact, she hadn't owed it before tonight.

When they'd returned from the park that afternoon to shower and get ready Grissom had hurried her into the bathroom insisting that she shower and whatnot first. Hanging on the shower door she'd found a dress bag holding this exquisite dress-in her size no less-and realized who Grissom had been on the phone with at the park.

When she came out of the bathroom, mostly ready save shoes and a purse, she was welcomed by the sight of….him.

Somehow he'd showered-though where she didn't know-and dressed in a tux complete with a shirt and handkerchief the exact color of her dress. He. Was. Beautiful. No, beautiful wasn't the right word. He was---there really wasn't a word to describe how he looked. But that didn't really matter—what matters was how he made her feel. And, judging by what he'd just said she must not look too shabby herself.

As she started to gather her things he placed a small clutch in her hand (another new addition to her growing collection) and pulled her by the arm out of the room and out to the street where a stretch limo sat waiting.

* * *

They pulled up to American Repertory Theatre on Brattle Street.

Grissom exited the limo and offered a hand to Sara who took it eagerly. She still didn't know what they were going to see, but she was beginning to have some idea. Must be that investigative streak.

Their seats were superb-in their private box they could see the entire stage and had nothing blocking their view. Sara curled her legs under her and grabbed Grissom's arm in anticipation. Figaro was taking the stage.

* * *

She didn't know why. It wasn't really similar to her situation at all, but when the Count began to seduce Suzanna, Figaro's fiancee, Sara began to tear up. Thought of her recent abduction came roaring into her mind and she gripped Grissom's hand all the more tightly.

They weren't engaged. And while he was certainly getting better at showing his feelings they hadn't talked about marriage or really much about the future of their relationship since she'd been found.

She wasn't expecting anything, yet this scenario touched her more deeply than she cared to admit.

She'd almost lost him, but like Suzanna, she'd willed herself to stay strong if only to see him one last time. She couldn't take it. She hid her face in his shoulder until it was over, despite his attempts to coax her back up.

She'd have to explain it all to him later.

It was going to be a long night.

* * *

A/N: I really did mean for it to be longer, but time sucks and impatience won out and I just posted what I had. Here's hoping for next time! 


	5. Chapter 5

**Disclaimer:** No, I do not own the characters or anything else CSI related. If I did I'd be writing FREAKIN' good story lines for the actual show that were CHOCK FULL 'O GSR. But, like I said I don't. Dang.

**A/N: **Closer still to the story's namesake. Hang in there,I'm trying to.

* * *

He clutched her hand as they left the theatre—refusing to let go. Concern was evidenced by the lines etched on his face. She hadn't said a word, but cried on his shoulder through most of the second half of the show. He'd guided her through the crowds with his hand on the small of her back, the other grasping her hand delicately. 

When they were safely inside the limo—safety glass up—he decided to gently probe.

"Honey?"

Simple, non-threatening, yet the word held a thousand meanings.

Head in her hands she finally looked up. She'd stopped crying but the tears had stained her beautiful face.

"I'm sorry Griss. I didn't mean to ruin your night."

"Baby, you've ruined _nothing_. I just wish I understood what happened in there."

She met his gaze, pondering her words before speaking.

"I just—I really related to Suzanna. I think it surprised me how much so. The Count—that's been a real character in my life—though instead of another man trying to seduce me it was a psycho chick trying to punish _you... _I guess the reality of what I—we--almost lost really became clear. And it scared me. Griss, I know we haven't really talked it out yet, but I want you to know that I'm in this for the long haul. For better or worse. Though—I must admit I've had enough of the 'worse' for awhile."

She leaned her head back and closed her eyes.

There.

She'd said it and there was no backing out now.

He sighed and took her hand in his. "Foiled again."

She opened her eyes. "What?"

He was looking down and speaking to her fingers which he was now playing with intermittently.

"This isn't how I'd planned it. Actually, I wasn't even going to do it tonight. This trip, yes, but not yet. I didn't think you were ready so soon after… I wanted to take you out and see if you seemed at all interested in living a conventional life—but you have—for the better—tossed those plans by the wayside. Sara I love you more than life itself. I know I'm not perfect-a day doesn't go by when someone at the lab is sure to let me know, but still… You know me better than anyone my whole life has, and _you're still here. _Would you do me the honor of becoming my wife? I don't have the ring with me so you don't have to decide right now if you don't—"

His words were cut short as she covered his lips with her own. When she figured he understood her answer she pulled back.

"For better or worse?"

"For better or worse."

* * *

"No way." 

"It's true."

"Seriously?"

"Seriously."

"And we got tickets?"

"If you want to go, consider them got."

"If I want to go? Want to watch a bunch of guys put on a comedy where they play ALL of the parts and whose secret society was named after food? Are you kidding? Let's do it!"

She was smiling more today than he'd seen in nearly a year. He hoped it was a least in part due to the fact that she knew he was committed to her in every way.

They'd meant to sleep in that morning but were both far too excited to spend the day with each other after being newly affianced that they woke up early—but technically did stay in bed until mid morning when they decided to take a shower together.

Now dressed, they were talking through the day as far as what they wanted to do and in what order. There was a restaurant that she wanted to try—Veggie Planet—and he wanted to see the Longfellow exhibit. Then he'd started talking about the Hasty Pudding theatrical that was showing that evening. Sara was almost more interested in the club's history than in the show itself which was entitled "The Tent Commandments". It sounded good and they decided to check it out.

They agreed instantaneously that Starbucks for breakfast would the first stop and the rest of the day was pretty much mapped out.

* * *

After a quick stop at Starbucks for coffee (him) and chai (her) they were off to the Longfellow National Historic site. Grissom was totally in his element and Sara found herself both amused and pleased that she could quote off the cuff as oft as he. 

He began bantering with her playfully:

"O GIFT of God! O perfect day :  
Whereon shall no man work, but play ;  
Whereon it is enough for me,  
Not to be doing, but to be!"

She thought for a moment and replied:

"O Life and Love ! O happy throng  
Of thoughts, whose only speech is song !  
O heart of man ! canst thou not be  
Blithe as the air is, and as free ?"

He took her hand and said:

"MAIDEN! with the meek, brown eyes,

In whose orbs a shadow lies Like the dusk in evening skies!

(taking liberty to skip most of the poem)

Bear through sorrow, wrong, and ruth

In thy heart the dew of youth,

On thy lips the smile of truth.

O, that dew, like balm, shall steal

Into wounds, that cannot heal

Even as sleep our eyes doth seal;

And that smile, like sunshine, dart

Into many a sunless heart,

For a smile of God thou art."

She was quick to reply:

"A gentle boy, with soft and silken locks,

A dreamy boy, with [blue and tender eyes,

A castle-builder, with his wooden blocks,

And towers that touch imaginary skies.

(also taking liberty to skip part of the poem)

There will be other towers for thee to build;  
There will be other steeds for thee to ride;  
There will be other legends, and all filled  
With greater marvels and more glorified.

Build on, and make thy castles high and fair,  
Rising and reaching upward to the skies;  
Listen to voices in the upper air,  
Nor lose thy simple faith in mysteries."

* * *

For lunch they went to Veggie Planet. Sara decided to try the 'Vegan Oddlot' pizza (fresh tomatoes, spinach, basil tofu ricotta, Calamata olives, and fried garlic) while Grissom settled on the 'Unsafe 'n Sound' (fresh tomatoes, fresh mozzarella, asadio, basil, and fried garlic laced with hot chile sauce). 

They came across Toscanini's Ice Cream and Coffee on their way home and decided to stop in for some dessert.

* * *

"You have ice cream on your nose." 

He went cross eyed for a second before asking, "Would you take care of it for me?"

She leaned forward and gently licked the sweet glob into her mouth.

Before she knew what was happening he'd captured her lips and his tongue was deueling hers for what was left of the sweet stuff.

"Don't think I'm complaining—'cause I'm not—but what was _that_?" she gasped, having lost the duel and the last bit of ice cream.

He grinned and licked his lips.

"It was my ice cream. But I wanted to know if it would be any sweeter in your mouth. Had to conduct an experiment before all of the evidence was gone."

"And?" She licked her own lips remembering the taste of his that had so graced them just moments before.

He lifted his palms. "The evidence never lies. But, I think I might need to double check—just to make sure."

"Well, I can't disagree with that. It's always a good idea to double check. However, I don't think this is the place to make-out. It's an adult ice cream store. Sophisticated. Mature. We don't want to get kicked out for acting like teenagers.

He frowned.

"But" she continued, "that just means we'll have to get some ice cream to go so that we'll have some 'evidence' to work with back at the B&B."

She was too good to him.

* * *

**A/N:** Quotes taken from Henry Wadsworth Longfellow's "A Day of Sunshine," "Maidenhood," and "The Castle Builder." 


	6. Chapter 6

**Disclaimer**: Don't own them. Wish I did.

**A/N:** This chapter is full of what some might consider 'useless knowledge'. I think it's stuff Grissom would know. I think it's interesting. So…Closer still to the namesake….hang in there.

* * *

Three.

The number of the morning.

It was the number of days they'd been on this much needed time away. It was the number of times he'd woken in the night just to watch her. It was the number of times he'd kissed her nose to wake her. It was the number of times they'd enjoyed each other thus far this morning. It was the number of times she'd called his name. It was the number of times he'd said "I love you," and heard her respond in kind.

Three was a pretty good number in his book.

He let his mind wander thinking of all of the reasons three was important:

There are three types of galaxies.

Earth is the third planet our solar system.

Three is the atomic number of lithium (Lithium is also the 33rd most abundant element on Earth).

Atoms consist of three constituents: protons, neutrons, and electrons.

There are 3 types of molecular bonds: Covalent lonic Polar covalent.

There are 3 hydrocarbon chain types: Straight (Propane) Branched (Isobutane) Circular (Cyclopropane)

There are 3 basic chemical reaction substances: Acids Bases Salts.

There are 3 distinct Cytoskeleton components: Microtubules Intermediate Filament Actin Filaments

There are 3 primary cellular energy molecules: AMP ADP ATP

There are 3 main fatty acid categories: Saturated Monounsaturated Polyunsaturated

There are3 substances metabolized for energy needs: Carbohydrates Fats Proteins

The universe is perceived to have three spatial dimensions.

White light is composed of the mixture of the three additive primary hues: red, green, and blue.

In his later work, Freud proposed that the psyche was divided into three parts: Ego, super-ego, and id.

There are three basic planes: Above- Surfaced- Beneath

There are three basic divisions of the Earth: Core- Mantle- Crust.

There are three basic rock formations: Igneous- Metamorphic- Sedimentary.

There are 3 types of volcanoes: Cinder cones Shield volcano Composite volcano.

RNA has a triplet codon system.

DNA has a triplet codon system.

Proteins can have a single, double, or tertiary structure, with a composite of these called the quaternary.

Human chromosomes can present trisomy.

There are 3 basic life domains: Archaea- Bacteria- and Eucaryota

In mythology there were the 3 Greek Fates (Moirai, Moires): Clotho Lachesis Atropos (sometimes referredto as the 3 spinners), the 3 Roman Fates: Decima Nona (goddesses of birth) Morta (goddess of death), and the 3 Roman Graces- (in Greek mythology called the charities and according to theSpartans, Cleta was the third): Aglaia Euphrosyne Thalia.

There was the Evidence Trinity: victim, suspect, crime-scene.

There was the Holy Trinity in Christian doctrine; that is God both as a single being and three persons: the Father, the Son and the Spirit.

Jesus rose from the dead on the third day.

The Wise Men who visited Jesus after His birth left Him three gifts.

Philosophy, he thought, is FILLED with threes.

Plato split the soul into three parts: the appetitive, the spirited, and the rational

Hegel's dialectic of Thesis + Antithesis Synthesis creates three-ness from two-ness.

St. Augustine's Philosophy: Memory Understanding Will

Hegel's 3 Spirits: Subjective Spirit Objective Spirit Absolute Spirit

Aristotle's 3 Unities: Unity of Action Unity of Time Unity of Place

Sir F. Bacon's 3 Tables: Presence Absence Degree

Thomas Hobbes's 3 Fields: Physics Moral Philosophy Civil Philosophy

Immanuel Kant's 3 Critiques: Pure Reason Practical Reason Judgment

Karl Marx's 3 isms: Communism Socialism Capitalism

Woodrow Wilson's 3 isms: Colonialism Racism Anti-Communism

Hippocrates's Mind Disorders: Mania Melancholia Phrenitis

Emile Durkeim's 3 Suicides: Egoistic Altruistic Anomic

D. Liesman's 3 Social Characters: Tradition-directed Inner-directed Other-directed Pythagoras's "fusion" idea: Monarchy Oligarchy Democracy (into harmonic whole) M.L. King Jr.'s "Middle Road": Acquiescence Nonviolence Violence

Kierkegaard's 3 Stages: Aesthetic Ethical Religious

St. Augustine's 3 Laws: Divine Law Natural Law Temporal, or positive Law

The Witness Stand truths: The Truth The whole Truth Nothing but the Truth

Titus Carus's 3 Ages: Stone Age Bronze Age Iron Age

Feuerbach's 3 Thoughts: God, 1st Thought Reason, 2nd Man, 3rd

Max Weber's 3 Authorities: Traditional Charismatic Legal-rational

George Mead's 3 Distinctions: Self I Me

Thrasher's 3-group Gangs: Inner Circle Rank & File Fringers

Abe Lincoln's 3-For-All: Of the People By the People For the People

J. Bruner's 3 cognitive processing modes: Enactive Iconic Symbolic

Wilhelm Wundt's 3 mind elements: Sensations Images Feelings

Robert Sternberg's 3 love components: Passion Intimacy Commitment

Hm….that Sternberg really knew what he was talking about, he thought for a moment diverting from his thought process to look at Sara-who had once again fallen asleep and was cuddled into his chest, head tucked snug between his head and shoulder.

Sternberg's Triarchic Intelligence: Analytic Creative Practical

Paul D. Maclean's Triune Brain: R-System (Reptilian) Limbic System Neocortex

The 3-monkey Philosophy: Hear no Evil See no Evil Speak no Evil

Aristotle's 3 in 1 idea: Mind Self-knowledge Self-love

Galton's 3 genius traits: Intellect Zeal Power of working

Gregor Mendel "laws": Independent Unit Characters Segregation Dominance

The Darwinian essentials of Evolution: Variation Heredity Struggle for existence.

Oh yeah. Chock full of threes.

There were threes in nearly any aspect of anything.

In music, any diatonic chord prograssion's key signature is made obvious with any 3 different triads, as opposed to potential key ambiguities with any 2 chords.

And in baseball, 3 is the number of strikes before the batter is out and the number of outs per side per inning. The number 3 position in the batting order is generally occupied by the team's best hitter. In high school and college, 3 is the ounze drop from length on a legal bat. Babe Ruth wore the number 3, Garry Scheffield and Ken Griffey Jr. wear the number three.

Sara stirred beneath his head as his mind came in for a landing.

"What are you thinking?" she asked sleepily.

"I love you."

Four wasn't a bad number either.

* * *

The day went by faster than they'd hoped, and they decided to spend the evening in their suite to prepare for their first seminar the next morning.

Grissom was going to do most of the talking.

He knew Sara was still hesitant to talk about her experience-she'd only just opened up to him about it and he could imagine that a crowd of gawking strangers would be much less comfortable for her. He was only planning to have her answer a few unobtrusive questions and fill in if she wanted to. He didn't want her to stress out if he could help it., but he also didn't want her to see him as overbearing. She was a big girl, but he couldn't help worrying.

* * *

The seminar at Harvard went better than expected.

It was well attended-there was standing room only toward the back of the auditorium that was used for the presentation. As planned, Grissom did most of the talking and Sara answered a few questions at the end of the session.

To ensure a smooth winding down at the end of the day, Grissom had cleared the evening and bought tickets to another show along with making dinner reservations at an upscale restaurant pre-concert.

* * *

Upstairs on the Square was a restaurant unlike any Sara had ever been in. The décor, for starters was very….pink. She was about to ask Grissom why he'd chosen it when he saw her look and answered, "It's closest to where we're going and it got good reviews. Trust me on this one, I didn't pick it because of the atmosphere."

That was her man, efficient.

She flashed him one of the smiles he was getting more used to: the kind that made his heart melt, his palms sweat, his knees weak and his tongue stop working.

He tried to swallow. He hoped his mouth would be in working order before their food arrived.

* * *

The meal was superb. They started off with an appetizer of Watermelon Gazpacho. For her entrée Sara chose the Poached Spring Vegetables in Herbed Mushroom Broth. Grissom had the Gently Poached Halibut with Cerignola olives, Green Garlic, and Lemon-Lavender Potatoes.

For dessert they decided to try the Chocolate Sea Salt & Pistachio Cake. It was decadent and entirely satisfying.

Sara was delighted to find that the name of the building they were going to was called the "Sanders Theatre."

"I'll have to give Greggo a call and let him know we thought about him."

Grissom shrugged. "_You_ thought about him. I have no control over where they decide to put on these things." He sounded serious but she could see the smile in his eyes before it reached his lips. He was only kidding.

* * *

The concert was called "Ginastera, Korde, and Musorgsky" and was being presented by the Boston Philharmonic. It would be a great way to unwind after the day they'd had, Sara thought as she settled into her seat next to Grissom.

He was pouring over the program as the lights went down in the house.

It was beautiful really. As the curtain came down Grissom closed his eyes until the applause died down. He was totally relaxed and hoped the music had had the same magic with Sara. He turned his head as a sound came from her direction.

He reached for her hand and gently squeezed. "Sara, Honey?"

"Mmmm?"

"Baby you fell asleep…"

"Did I? I'm sorry. I must've been more tired than I thought."

He smiled reassuringly. "It's ok. I guess the music just had a lulling affect on you. Are you ready to go?"

She grasped his forearms as she stood to help her keep her balance.

"I'm ready. Let's go."


	7. Chapter 7

**Disclaimer:** they're not mine...sigh...

* * *

They spent more time on the road in the next week than they had at each destination.

After a few days the seminars started to blend together in Sara's mind. Since Harvard they'd hit Yale, Dartmouth, Georgetown, Princeton, Columbia, UVA, Duke, Emory, and Georgia Tech in just over a week and a half.

Grissom was losing his edge—he wasn't as sleep deprived as usual, but he was beginning to show signs of wearing thin.

They were contemplating whether or not to take a few extra days when Sara got the call from a former acquaintance.

* * *

"So, it's another seminar?"

His wearied features contorted in a grimace.

She rolled over to face him—his eyes were closed, but his brow wrinkled.

"No, not really." She ran a cool hand across his brow and stopped to twirl a curl between her fingers.

He relaxed a little under her ministrations, but she could tell that his defenses were still up. They were both tired—she knew that much.

She traced a line from his hair line down his check to his chin and gently tipped it up.

Reluctantly he opened his eyes.

"It's a basic forensics consultation. Some of the higher ups at this university are looking at adding a forensics curriculum and heard that you were on the East Coast. Plus, I'm a friend of a friend of a friend, so…they figured they'd give it a go. No Natalie talk—and it's at a very small private university with a gorgeous campus that's just outside the foothills of the Blue Ridge Mountains. They're willing to provide everything—including an extra week of vacation in the mountains."

He grunted. "We'd have to clear that with Ecklie—and he's not too happy with me right now."

She smiled a secretive smile and rubbed his shoulder.

"No, it's all been taken care of. When my friend called the lab to get my cell number he talked it all out with Ecklie. We're in the clear. It gets good press for the lab—which Ecklie will take for himself. All you have to do is think about what you'd rather do: go consult with a small university looking at adding forensics to their curriculum and have an extra week's paid for vacation with me…, or hurry home to Ecklie, double shifts, and crazies." She smirked.

He pulled her closer and kissed the crown of her head.

"Well, when you put it that way…there's no question of it is there? I mean, really, I've already got my crazy with me."

He smiled when that earned him a playful slap to the chest.

"Only crazy about you."

* * *

**A/N:** it's short I know, things have been BUSY!!! But I wanted to post _something_. I'll work on more soon, I'm going out of town next week and hopefully that will allow me some time to really write. Thanks for your continued patience. Any encouragement is most welcome. 


	8. Chapter 8

DISCLAIMER: I don't own Grissom or Sara or any of the movies I quote.

* * *

The drive to Furman was nice, punctuated with light conversation and a lot of cuddling—as best could be done in a car.

Eventually they decided to play a game in which they would begin to sprinkle movie quotes throughout the conversation when appropriate. The other "player" would then be obliged to either continue dialog from that movie, acknowledging that they knew it, or add it to their LIST. In the end they would have to watch every movie on their respective lists.

* * *

CRACK!

Sara's eyes popped open. "What was that?"

A piece of gravel had popped up and hit the windshield.

Grissom decided to start the game, "Last year, more people were killed by automobile accidents, heart attacks, lung cancer, and natural causes combined than any one tomato."

Sara's blank expression gave away that she hadn't an inkling as to what he was talking about.

"Well," he sighed, "that's one for me. Add _Attack of the Killer Tomatoes_ to your list." He grinned. "Don't worry though. The gravel didn't crack the window."

"Sure, blame the gravel for your driving…"

"I'm an excellent driver."

This time she caught on. "Well forgive me, I've lost my secret decoder ring!" She sighed. "Rain Man, I love that movie."

Grissom's face turned a shade darker as he continued, "Of course, I don't have my underwear. I'm definitely not wearing my underwear." He glanced her direction to see if she'd been paying attention.

If her face was any indication, she had.

"Mikey," she said, hoping to gain the upper hand, "why don't you tell that nice girl you love her? 'I love you with all-a my heart, if I don't see-a you again soon, I'm-a gonna die…"

He looked up briefly and pretended to adjust the rear view mirror. "I'll make [her an offer [she can't refuse." His tongue grazed his lower lip involuntarily.

"Well I certainly hope so!" she laughed. This was a gun game, but she still had one on her list and he-none.

"Baby steps [Gil. Baby steps."

"Huh?" His brow crinkled in confusion.

"Ha! Score one for me! Add What About Bob? To your list!"

He grumbled, but was inwardly pleased that they now had at least two movies to watch together.

* * *

After stopping for lunch and a bladder break, they resumed the trip in that 'I've-just-eaten-and-could-probably-use-a-nap' quiet.

Sara closed her eyes and let her left hand wander to rest on Grissom's right thigh.

The car jerked slightly to the left before continuing on its straight path.

"Honey?"

She smiled and moved her hand slightly north of where it was resting. "We're both sticking to our guns. The difference is, mine are loaded."

"Who doesn't want a shortcut to greatness?" He continued, then decided to go ahead and pull a switcheroo on her, "We live by the rules, we die by the rules."

"Our rules supersede those of the outside world." Her hand continued its northward track.

"Imagine that…I would do anything to protect you. Won't you do the same for me?"

Having caught his switch, Sara decided to pull one of her own. "You're so sly, but so am I."

"I know that I'm not smarter than you." He smiled.

"Dream much…[Gil?" She began to move her hand back down along his thigh.

He shuddered. "You're talking--about doing exactly what you said you'd…"

She removed her hand completely. "It is in your nature to do one thing correctly: Tremble."

"Take my word for it, I'm smiling."

He turned onto Interstate 276 towards Traveler's Rest.

She took his right hand in her left, kissing his knuckles between words, "It's" kiss "not" kiss "over" kiss "yet." kiss, kiss

"If power doesn't mean that you have the opportunity to work with the people you love, then you haven't really got any."

She smiled. "I agree with that. Oh-and that's from _The Rat Pack_."

* * *

"Get out of the car."

"Why? The upholstery is already ruined." He smiled. She was good.

"Remember that face I showed you [Sara? I'm makin' it again."

She semi-glared at him as she reached for the door handle.

"What?" he asked "I was being serious." He gave her the most innocent face he could muster then suddenly turned serious. "You will remember to wash your hands before eating?"

She stopped halfway out the door and raised her hands. "What did I touch?"

"You didn't touch anything. We stopped."

She sighed. "Everyone says one thing and does another."

"Ha. Fear. 'You think I'm kidding, I can tell. This is strictly on the up and up."

He hopped out and moved around the car to help her out.

"Thief." She said not missing a beat.

"You've got a gift," he said taking her hands.

She laced her fingers with his and responded, "It's not a gift, it's a brain."

"Touché. Too bad 'it's a bug-eat-bug world out there princess."

At her lack of response he chuckled. "Score two for me! Add _A Bug's Life_ to your list."

"That cartoon movie? Yeah, I guess I never did get around to seeing that."

"Well, the reality of it is, you don't have kids so why would have seen it?"

She thought before quoting "Well, I've wrestled with reality for 35 years, Doctor, and I'm happy to state I finally won out over it."

He glanced at her as he held the door to the pizza place open. "I sure do hope that's from a movie."

She looked surprised. "You've never seen _Harvey_?"

He stared blankly at her.

"I guess we're even again then," she said triumphantly.

"Do you want a hostage?" He said, pulling her to his side. "I've been trained to be a hostage."

"What on earth are you talking about?"

"Make that three to two, me."

"Words, words [Grissom. There was a time when I believed in words." She paused, waiting for a response before continuing, "make that three to three, lover man."

"Everyone does everything just to get laid."

"Who said that? Freud?"

"No, I did."

She grinned and whispered "well maybe we'll both get lucky then."

* * *

Grissom excused himself while they waited for their food to arrive.

Sara pulled the memo from her pocked and read it for what seemed the millionth time.

Grissom walked up behind her and smiled.

"How can you read that again?"

"It's good."

"Yeah but you've read it like a thousand times."

"I enjoy it."

He kissed the top of her head before resuming his seat. "Do you now?"

"Honestly I love it. I'm so glad we decided to do this. And," she leaned in and grasped his hand under the table, "I'm glad you agreed to this little side trip as well."

"Well," he said, "all joking and movie quotes aside—who knows what could happen?"

* * *

By the time they reached Furman Sara's list consisted of_ Attack of the Killer Tomatoes, Jumpin' Jack Flash, and A Bug's Life. _

Grissom's consisted of_ What About Bob?; Harvey; and Brother Sun, Sister Moon._

* * *

**A/N:** Quotes from: _Attack of the Killer Tomatoes, Rain Man, The Godfather, What About Bob?, The Contender, The Skulls, Manhunter, The Rat Pack, X-Files: Fight the Future, Jurassic Park, Fear, Thief, Cube, A Bug's Life, Harvey, Jumpin' Jack Flash, Brother Sun Sister Moon, The Big Chill, and Memento._


	9. Chapter 9

**Disclaimer:** I don't own Grissom or Sara; Furman University or toes. From this point on any persons that resemble anyone is strictly coincidental.

* * *

Toes were weird.

Aside from the obvious use of maintaining balance, enabling humans to walk upright, what good were they really?

Sara poked her feet out of the bubbles and wiggled her toes once more.

Yep.

No doubt about it.

Toes were definitely weird.

* * *

"Do you think I have pretty feet?"

He looked up from the book he was reading and eyed her over his glasses. "Huh?"

"My feet. Do you think they're pretty?"

"Baby, I love everything about you." He glanced back down thinking the matter decided.

The grunt heard a second later let him know that it had not yet been settled.

"Griss…" she sat down on the bed next to the chair where he was seated. "I'm serious."

A look of utter bewilderment crossed his face. Discarding the book he moved to sit beside her on the bed.

"Honestly? I don't really think about your feet very often. Not in particular anyway. But I love them because they are a part of you and I love you."

He knelt beside her and picked up her left foot, causing her to have o lean back on the bed. He gazed for a moment with his scientist's eye. She watched his eyes move back and forth across her skin-examining every angle and taking in every detail.

She was glad she'd decided to take a bath tonight. Otherwise he mightn't be so keen to be so close to her feet at the moment.

He traced her instep with his index finger, then gently examined each toe before switching to the other foot.

She hadn't expected him to be so thorough. Then again, she reconsidered, she should have expected as much. It was his way to be as detailed and exacting as possible.

He had finished his visual exploration and was now suckling each toe in turn.

This she had definitely not expected—though she had to admit—sometimes he did have trouble finding words…

Ok, she decided.

Toes: not so bad.

* * *

He had to admit-Furman's campus was quite beautiful.

Upon entrance through iron wrought gates, one was greeted by a large fountain. There were trees everywhere. The lake was home to several swans, ducks, and other birds.

To Sara's delight there was a rose garden that seemed to be the popular place for wedding photos (though this was true of several areas around the small campus).

Sara's friend of a friend twice removed was actually a psychology professor—the eldest member of the acting faculty.

A crusty old man by the name of Brewer, he had hunched shoulders, large glasses, a comb-over of about ten hairs that were painfully dyed black, who seemed to have an affinity for turtlenecks and called _everyone_ by their last name—which suited Grissom just fine.

They were able to meet with the heads of several departments as well as the president and it seemed the little university was well on its way to having a very fine Forensic Analysis Department.

The next couple of days went so smoothly that things with the university were wrapped up four days earlier than planned.

Sara was packing their things in joyful anticipation of their newly lengthened vacation when their plans were changed once again.

A girl had been found dead in lower South Carolina and had been an alumnus of Furman. Police in Charleston were having trouble finding any leads and once again the university was making an offer they couldn't see refusing. So instead of heading to the mountains, Grissom and Sara found themselves headed for the beach near Mount Pleasant, South Carolina.

* * *

**A/N:** This is where the story I originally started out to write starts. It'll probably be less fluff (though some cause I need it) and more crime oriented. PLEASE REVIEW. It's my birthday; I need some reviews to make me feel better. ;o) Thanks to those of you who have read this far! 


	10. Chapter 10

**Disclaimer:** I don't own Grissom or Sara; Charleston, Mount Pleasant, Pet Keepers, etc. Ehm, from this point on any persons that resemble anyone is strictly coincidental. Yeah.

Where the real meets the mind…

* * *

'_Smiling Faces, Beautiful Places._' That's what their license plates said, and for the most part it was true. But even 'Beautiful places' have a dark side.

She was found in a dumpster in a not so savvy section of downtown Charleston. At first police just thought her a homeless person who'd been looking for shelter and heat among the garbage, but upon a second look, noticed that she was wearing scrubs and was fairly clean. After turning up several dead ends the Charleston police were reluctant to ask for outside help, but upon hearing Grissom's name (he was known nationwide by now) quickly agreed to turn the case over.

Grissom and Sara agreed to look at the body and go from there. Upon arrival at the coroner's office Grissom was given access to anything he might need. He and Sara went straight to the back of the building to look at the body.

"Where's the light switch? Ah." Flicking the lights on they glanced around the room. It was a clean, good sized room of mostly stainless steel. On the far wall were drawers that housed corpses. A nice size autopsy table sat in the center of the room with the girl's body lying atop it. On another table were stacked her clothing and items found in the same vicinity that she was.

Sara walked up to the body for a closer look at the girl's face. She barely hooked old enough to be out of college.

"At least she looks peaceful."

Grissom nodded. "Yeah, but that probably also means she knew her killer."

"You've already decided that this was a murder? What do you base that on? We haven't looked at anything yet."

"First blush. She was wearing scrubs—med student? Doctor? There's a well known medical university downtown. Her hair is short and parted which means she probably had a home. Homeless people generally don't worry about that sort of thing. She's got a watch tan on her left wrist and a ring tan on her left ring finer. Possibly married? However, her cuticles are all chewed up so she worried about something, and her nails are short, they look bitten which—again—implies worry. Murder? I just have a hunch. But if doing this job for 20 years has taught me anything, it's not to ignore hunches. This girl was murdered. Let's find us a killer."

Sara sat down on a stool near the table. "Ok. What do we _know_?"

Leaning against the counter Grissom laid out the new information they'd been given by the Charleston police. "Her name is Emily Richardson. Age: 24. She lived with her sister and worked at a nearby boarding facility. She had no overt enemies and was active in her church."

"Wow, so that's quite possibly a lot of suspects and at least four possible leads: the dumpster she was found in, her house, work, and church. Having been thrown in a dumpster sends the message 'you're garbage'—this could have been personal."

Grissom smiled, throwing Sara off until he spoke. "Miss the guys yet?"

* * *

The gang had taken the first flight to Charleston after receiving Grissom's call. They were only too happy to leave Vegas in the hands of Swing shift and Ecklie while going to the beach to help their friends with a case. Greg, in particular, was excited about the girls who would be on beach. "Ha, ha! Charleston is a college town!" he'd exclaimed excitedly as they were taking off.

When they arrived the team was caught up on the engagement (to no one's surprise) and what was known about the case. Greg was sent dumpster diving, which he didn't really mind because the college was situated in the middle of downtown. Catherine went to find the sister. Nick and Warrick went to the kennel, which left Grissom and Sara with the church.

"Ha! Stubby. What a great name for a dog with little legs."

"Yeah, well just be glad your momma didn't name you Velcro."

Nick and Warrick were walking through the kennel where Emily had worked. They decided to give the place a comb over before outright interrogating anyone.

Nick stopped at a cage with a fat little terrier in it that was barking its head off.

"Aw, Jeremy…what's wrong buddy?" he moved to stick two fingers between the bars when they heard a timid voice behind them.

"Uh, I wouldn't do that if I were you."

A young man in his early twenties dressed in burgundy scrubs stood before them rocking on his heels. A fine layer of blonde hair covered his pale head and his eyes peered at them above a mischievous grin.

"Who are you?" Nick was a bid offended at being reprimanded. It was just a dog…and a little one at that.

"Matt. I work here—and I wouldn't do that."

"Why not?" Warrick smiled. Nick was getting a bit feisty.

"Oh, he's bitten a hole through another dog's foot…"

The young man turned to leave still mumbling before Warrick spun him back around. "Hey-don't go far. We're gonna want to talk to you."

"Fun stuff," he replied before disappearing behind the door.

The two CSIs looked at each other. Nick grudgingly moved away from the terrier. "Man, what do you make of that guy?"

Warrick lifted his hands palms up in response. "I don't know, but something's definitely off about him. We'll keep an eye on him. In the meantime I think we should talk to the manager and receptionist. They would probably have a better idea of what's going on."

Nick reached over to bet the fat little dachshund one more time. "Catcha later Stubbs."

* * *

Catherine arrived at the address listed as Emily's home at about the same time the guys got to the kennel. _Hmm, must be nice to live so close to work_, she thought to herself as she walked up to the door and knocked.

A young lady answered the door after about two minutes. Catherine had considered leaving, but there were two cars in the driveway, indicating that someone was bound to be home, so she decided to try knocking one more time—more forcefully.

"Can I help you?

"Hi, I'm Catherine Willows, Las Vegas Crime Lab. Are you Bonnie?" The girl nodded so she continued, "I'm here in town helping with your sister's case. I'd like to ask you a few questions."

Bonnie sighed and crossed her arms. "Fine, mind if I smoke?" The question was somewhat moot as she proceeded to sit on the porch steps and light up.

Catherine raised her eyebrows and moved to where she could see the girl's face as she spoke. She could already tell that she was in for an interesting, if not long, conversation.

* * *

A/N: I'm sorry for the lack of updates. Life happens. I have not given up on this story...completely. Truth be told I've been somewhat reluctant to write for fear of it not being any good. Life's still happening, I'm going out of town again this weekend, but maybe I'll find some time to write. I really would appreciate feedback, mostly encouragement. Thanks for hanging in there. 


	11. Chapter 11

A/N: needless to say, this has been a long time coming. My computer crashed, among other things, and I've begun to write again recently. Any and all reviews/encouragement are welcome/needed. ;o) It's short, I know, but I pray this is ok.

* * *

As soon as he reached his destination Greg began to regret offering to do the dumpster dive in downtown Charleston.

Sure, there was a college nearby, but the dumpster was hardly in the heart of college town. No, this was more like the slums. There was a homeless shelter about four blocks away. A condemned building sat to the left of the parking lot where the dumpster was located.

Some uniforms were still patrolling the area, but Greg found that he was otherwise alone. He pulled some bags from the top of the heap in the dumpster and decided that it might be better to get an inside look.

After dragging a crate over to get enough leverage he leaned over to get a preliminary look at the inside of the dumpster. The pungent smell emanating off the walls was enough to make him gag through his mask. He backed out of the sliding door in the side and grabbed a flashlight and a pair of tweezers before ducking back in. This particular dumpster was rife with evidence. Grissom was going to be so proud.

* * *

After very little digging the CSIs discovered that Emily spent very little time away from three main places. While the guys took care of the work angle, Catherine- the family, and Greg took the dump site, Grissom and Sara went on to pursue the only other place Emily frequented: her church.

The building, or buildings rather, sat in an historic part of town called the "Old Village". Deciding to forego the more eloquent and much older looking building, the pair instead walked through the large glass doors to the structure labeled 'Ministry Center'.

* * *

"You already know?"

Sara glanced questioningly at Grissom before turning back to the man seated before them.

"Yeah, um…news kind of travels fast around here. Old ladies who thrive on gossip have nothing on our prayer tree. Emily was well loved—it's a huge shock to all of us. If there's anything anyone here can do to help, please don't hesitate to ask." He paused before continuing, "I mean, there must be some questions you have, or you wouldn't be here—am I right?"

"We're just trying to get an idea of her background: any unusual circumstances that may have surrounded her, any enemies?"

"No. Certainly not around here-and none that I know of."

Scanning the room Grissom continued the inquiry: "What was her capacity here? I mean, why would a 24 year old girl spend a third or more of her time at church?"

The man behind the desk smiled widely.

"Drums," he replied.

"Well, drums and Year Team," he corrected.

Sara's forehead scrunched as this new information failed to make sense. "Drums and year team?"

"She was a drummer here. Very talented. She was very musical." He paused and handed her a CD before continuing, "she wrote track 4."

Sara turned the CD over. "Ok, that explains drums, but what is year team?"

"It's like a class. A course. There are teachings, opportunities to practice…but I'm the music guy. If you want to know more you should talk to Todd, I'm sure he'd be more than willing to talk to you. Like I said, we're all very taken aback at this whole situation."

Eventually they all met back at the morgue where they'd set up temporary shop in a wind that was being renovated and was currently not being used.

As they began to compare notes and share their various experiences in Charleston thus far, Emily's story began to unfold…

A/N: ahem... reviews?


	12. Chapter 12

**Of Dogs and Death**

**Chapter 12**

**A/N: I've said it before, I'll say it again: Life happens. And continues to happen. **

**Disclaimer: I own: not the characters. Not the people. Not Starbucks. Just the ideas.**

* * *

Troubled.

That was one word for it.

Actually, no. It wasn't that he was troubled—exactly. That wasn't the problem...

"Gil. I can hear you thinking."

She turned in his arms so that she was facing him. "Neither one of us is going to get any sleep at this rate."

She drew an invisible line down his forehead to the tip of his nose; lips following finger, and ended lightly on his lips.

"I've got to go back to the kennel. We've missed _something_."

"_We'll_ go back to the kennel."

"Yes,_ we'll_ go back."

* * *

It wasn't terribly impressive, the kennel.

A few gray cinder block buildings and a couple of wood chipped play yards were all that composed it.

Though Nick and Warrick had already checked things out, Grissom wanted to talk to each member of the staff personally. Sara tagged along for support-as well as to provide fresh eyes.

"I don't understand. We were already interrogated by those other guys. I don't know what else to tell you." The receptionist was understandably baffled and clearly frustrated.

The phone on the desk rang and she chose to ignore it—trying to please these uninvited—though necessary guests.

"I know you already gave us your statement, but I wanted to hear it one more time—from you. What do you remember about that day?" he gently prodded.

She sighed in resignation, "It was about as normal as any other day here. Except that one of our workers got fired, but that didn't have anything to do with Emily..."

"What is their name?"

"Michael Mast."

"Thank you. Please, continue."

"Everything else was normal. A client called and said he'd be running late so I stayed about 15 minutes past closing. Emily offered to stay—as she usually does when that happens. The dog was picked up. Emily locked up the kennels and we walked out together. I took the deposit next door to the Animal Hospital and Emily got into her car. When I came out she was fiddling with her radio or iPod-but otherwise was fine. I waved goodbye and then left. Like I said, like any other day."

"Who else was still there when you left?"

"Leslie, the office manager of the hospital left as I did. Oh, and Dr. Kevin's truck was there, but he'd gotten a ride home with Dr. Laura. He does that sometimes. So, no one was left."

"You're sure no one else was there?"

"I've told you everything I know." The phone once more sang out its shrill song and she checked the ID. "I'm sorry but I have to take this. Maybe you should check next door?"

On their way out the back they were met by the same young man whom Warrick and Nick had encountered. He gave them half a smile and ducked into the building without a word.

* * *

The bell rang as they entered the Animal Hospital and they were met by an empty room. Eventually a woman with curly blond hair came out from the back in a rush.

"Can I help you?" She seemed more than a little distracted.

"Hi we're working..."

"I know who you are. You guys have already been up and down and through this place."

"Ma'am-"

"Leslie."

"Leslie. We just have a few more questions and then we'll be out of your hair. I promise. We're just trying to wrap this up as fast as we can without missing anything." He tried to be gentle without knowing the vic's relationship with the woman.

"TIM!! Cover the front while I talk to these people!"

A young man came out from the back as they made their way to the break room—taking mental notes that this building was far nicer—and cleaner than the one they'd been in moments before. They took their seats at a long table and asked Leslie to once more recount her memory of that fateful night.

* * *

Greg was nearly bouncing off the walls when everyone was gathered once more in the abandoned wing of the coroner's office.

"I'm telling you-once again-I have broken this case wide open!"

"Ok. Calm down Greg. We don't have time for mistakes. Take a deep breath. Now, what did you find?"

Sara was impressed with his patience with the younger man given his stress level and lack of sleep. She rubbed his forearm approvingly.

"Apples." He stood still with an expectant look on his face.

"Apples?" Grissom's shoulders slumped.

"Well, apple _seeds_ really."

"Apple seeds? Get to the point Greg."

The younger man eagerly explained, "Ok so you gave me the dumpster-thank you very much-I doubt I'll be seeing any kind of action in this town-but anyways—I found a few Starbucks cups-not surprising-in the can along with miscellaneous other garbage." He stopped to take a breath. "Anyway-I didn't think the dumpster was any more than just that: a dump site. I printed the door and handles and all but got nothing .Then I found another Starbucks cup...with lipstick on it." The boy looked like he was about to explode. "I did some tests and found the DNA of the vic on one of the two cups. _Not_ the one with lipstick. Guys, if we can match the DNA from that cup we have a possible suspect!" He finished before collapsing into a nearby chair and taking a long swig from a Starbucks cup that had been sitting on the table next to him. "Oh don't worry...I picked this up on my way over here," and he proceeded to turn the cup to reveal _GREG _scribbled on the side. "And before you ask—no--neither of the cups from the the dumpster had names on them. I guess someone was slacking off that day."

Grissom still looked a bit nonplussed. "Apple seeds?"

Greg jumped up again and started pacing and talking, hands waving wildly.

"Right- so I did a chemical analysis on the inside of both cups. One, the one with lipstick was your run of the mill caramel macchiato. Extra caramel. The other was chai with a hint of fruit-mostly apple. Starbucks doesn't make an apple flavored drink. I checked--" he tapped his cup, "and apple seeds contain a cyanide compound. Apple seeds, or pips, contain amygdalin-a cyanide and sugar compound that degrades into hydrogen cyanide when metabolized. The Nazis used hydrogen cyanide in their gas chambers during World War II. Don't worry though-I don't think we're dealing with modern day Nazis-just a bit of history for you. Cyanide is a poison that kills by denying the blood the ability to carry oxygen. As we all know oxygen is essential—_if _you want to keep on living. Cyanide victims ultimately die of asphyxiation. It acts quickly and irrevocably—once a lethal amount has been ingested there's no effective antidote. Death would take place within minutes. However, simply swallowing the pips, of which it would take a HUGE amount, wouldn't necessarily cause death because they have a tough protective coating that isn't susceptible to the digestive juices. Unless the pips are pulverized or masticated, the amygdalin they contain stays safely inside. Cherry, peach and apricot pits also contain amygdalin—and in more potentially harmful amounts but it would be more difficult to grind up a peach pit than a bunch of apple seeds. Of course it couldn't hurt to look for properties of the other fruits as well—a combination of pits and pips would probably make for a faster lethal combination. How about them apples?"

Grissom took the young man in before saying anything. He'd done his homework. That much was obvious.

"Good work Greg. That sounds like a plausible theory. Get to work on matching DNA and let me know what comes up. Sara, go back to the vet office and collect anything that may have been used to grind up meds or...apple seeds. I'm going to find the Doc."

"Doc?"

"Yes, the Doc. Turns out Doc Robbins and his wife have a house on the beach near here and they happen to be in town—so he's doing me a favor by looking at the body. Meet back here when everyone's finished."

And with that he was out the door.

She wasn't looking forward to going back to the vet office even a little bit. These people had a business to run—that much they'd made clear. She hoped it would be an in and out job.

She couldn't have been more wrong.

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**A/N:** My apologies for taking so long. For a long time I debated even finishing this story, but I knew that I had to. It's nearly there. This part turned out to be harder to write than I thought. Thanks to anyone who's still with me. TBC...


	13. Chapter 13

**A/N: I honestly doubt anyone's still with me, but not having a computer for over a year (still Don't!) tends to put a damper on updates. No beta, mistakes are mine. Please, if you're able read and review. **

**Disclaimer: Any person place or thing that resembles anyone in real life is purely....coincidental. I mean nothing by it. **

**Chapter 13**

"Naw man, you gotta go for the ones in the middle first."

"Come on. It's always worked like this for me before. You don't know what you're talking about."

"Boys! It's just a game! Who cares?"

Crickets were the only sound heard for what were probably the longest three seconds in history.

"WHAT!?!"

"Catherine, not only is this not 'just a game' this is _**THE**_ game! This is Mrs. PacMan!"

Catherine and the boys had met up after barely catching Grissom on his way to see Doc Robbins. They had been instructed to quote: "Take a break. Clear your heads. And take another look at the vic's clothing and personal items." End quote. They were currently still in phase one of those directions and Catherine had brought them all coffee--hoping to spark some ideas based on the new information provided by Greg.

"I'm telling you if you go for the outside stuff first you'll us up all of your Power-pellets and end up getting stuck in the middle..."

"And then you'll die." Greg walked in with a file folder looking defeated.

"Yea--wait. What? You're not talking about the game are you?"

Greg rolled his eyes. "Does my face tell you I'm talking about the game?"

"Sorry man, what's up?"

"There was no DNA present. It was a random cup, but the good news is the DNA from the vic was present on the second cup. The lipstick cup is a bust."

Catherine stood and took charge. "Ok guys--game time's over. Let's look at what we have and what we may need to look at again. What do we know? Everything."

Nick started, "Vic's a 24 year old female. Worked at a kennel."

"Yeah," Warrick interjected, "and she played drums at her church and was involved in a program called Year Team."

"And she was poisoned with a lethal combination of ground apple seeds and cherry pits," Greg finished.

"What about the girl herself? Likes? Dislikes? Enemies? Do we have anything else to go on that could possibly point us in the right direction?"

Warrick shook his head, "I'd be happy with _any_ direction . I feel so useless not having any leads."

Nick kicked the table leg in frustration. "Did anybody check her car, house, bedroom--for any kind of clues"

"No, I mean I went to the house and talked with the sister, but we didn't have a warrant so I didn't press."

Warrick chuckled half heartedly, "Maybe we should just try asking nicely." He turned to Nick and Greg. "You guys wanna take the car, and Cath and I will go back to the house? Anything we can find is better than nothing."

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"_**This is Your Brain on Music, The Paradox of God and the Since of Omniscience, Passing for Normal, Unfortunate English, The Sociopath Next Door, The Boy Who Was Raised as a Dog**_...this is quite the collection," Catherine held up several books of varying sizes.

Warrick stopped looking through the long filing cabinet that stood next to the door of the victim's bedroom. "Yeah, and that's just what she had next to the bed..." He moved to one of the bookshelves and glanced at various titles. "_**The Kingdom of the Cults, **_Marilyn Manson's_** The Long Road out of Hell, Satanism: The Seduction of America's Youth, Freakonomics, Bloodletting, Secret Recipes**_...she wasn't into any of this stuff was she?"

Catherine stood to give her knees a rest. "No, her sister said that she just liked to learn about everything that she could--especially things that _did not_ fall into what she believed," she held up a small Bible that had been on the night stand. "We're not looking for any ritualistic stuff, she just wanted to be read up."

He chuckled, "You know this vic kind of reminds me of Sara in a way...you know? Reading anything and everything. Except the Bible part."

Catherine's lip twitched into a half smile. "Yeah. You find anything?"

He stood at the girls desk, which took up half of the room, and picked up one of various journals that littered the top. "Most f these are empty," he said as he set it aside and picked up the next one. "What the--Cath you've gotta see this."

"What--wow!" She flipped through a couple of pages. "That's talent."

"Yeah we've gotta show Grissom...even if it doesn't lead us anywhere...which we won't know until someone reads it, it's worth showing it."

"Yeah, we're gonna need a mirror. Hoo--that takes _some_ talent."

* * *

"Well she's got a library in her car." Greg pulled several books out of the back seat.

Nick laughed, "Yeah and a music studio in the trunk..." Greg poked his head back out, interested, "Yeah?"

Nick shrugged. "Ok maybe not a studio, but several busted or worn drumsticks, a couple of cymbal stands, a cymbal, and a kick pedal."

"Grissom said that she was a drummer."

"Right. What else have we got?"

"Ehm, a handful of pens, couple of notebooks, CDs, various pieces of paper with writing on them, nothing of significance."

Nick sighed. "Print the doors and let's head back and see if anyone found something that _is_ helpful."

* * *

"I know that this is an inconvenience for you, but I really need to take a look around. If you'd rather I can get a warrant and shut you down for a few hours, or you can let me do what I need to do and I'll get our of your hair."

The young veterinarian looked at her eyes wide, "No, no. You go ahead. Anything you need just let one of us know." He was more jittery than a squirrel hopped up on espresso.

"I'll begin in the back if that's ok."

"Ah, yes. Tim's back there doing a dental and can answer any questions you might have." He stood and shook her hand looking much better for wear with the prospect of dealing with warrants, etc. off the table. "Also my wife, the other veterinarian here, will be in the office a little later if you'd like to talk to her," he offered.

"I just might. Thank you." Sara dipped her head and began to move toward the large room in the back of the building.

The hurried young man who had been called to cover the front the last time she had been there was now clad in gloves and face mask, huddled over a table with a small dog lying stock still upon it. He glanced up and waved. "Hello again. I'm right in the middle of this dental, but I'd be happy to answer any questions you might have."

She smiled and nodded toward the table, "Not the most fun job you do here I'm guessing?"

He shrugged, "well, this little guy is a miniature schnauzer--not the hardest thing to handle, but with the anesthesia, any dog is about the same. If you want to see a mess of a pup go through tat room and look in the last run. That little guy doesn't know what to do with himself." He returned to his work and let Sara consider his thoughts.

Curious, she went straight through two sound proof doors to the last room that contained cages and a few runs (longer gated enclosures for larger dogs). What she saw nearly made her forget why she was there to begin with. There at the back of the six foot run lay a boxer puppy halfway upside down with a blanked curled around his torso and his water dish on his head...fast asleep. She couldn't stop the giggle that worked its way out of her mouth and woke him up. Instantly he was at the front of the run trying desperately to lick her face and hands between the bars. After being thoroughly kissed, Sara stood and walked back out to the main room of "the back".

Tim looked up and smiled as he removed his face mask. "I just finished up, so I can help in any way you need. Just let me get this little guy set up so he can start waking up." He moved swiftly and returned moments later eager to help.

Sara nodded toward the room with the runs, "What's his story?"

"Ah, well, that little guy is currently up for adoption and will be going to the Humane Society in a few days if we don't find someone to take him before then. He was Emily's, or was going to be...she just got him. Her mom can't take care of him and really isn't prepared to take on a puppy right now so he came here, we gave him all of his shots, micro chipped him and everything...he just needs a home."

" Has anyone shown any interest?"

"Not yet. Most of us already have pets, Emily was the only one who didn't for a while. Her previous dog died a few years back and she just wasn't in a place to take on a pet until now. She was _SO_ happy to have gotten him too..."

"I wonder, would you adopt him to out-of-towners?"

"If they were good people who would take care of him and love him, yes. You know someone?" He looked at her quizzically.

She smiled. "I might. I'll get back to you on that. Ok, sorry. On to the not so fun part. I need to see anything you or anyone else may have used to administer, or crush, or grind medicine."

"Sure. Just wait here a second." Scurrying about the room he opened various cabinets and drawers and returned shortly with an assortment of devices. He lay them out so that Sara could see them individually and then began picking them up one at a time. "This is what we use to assist in pilling cats." It was a long plastic instrument with a rubber tip that you could place a pill into and, once inside the cat's mouth, press the end to push the pill forward and into the cat's throat. He shrugged. "Some cats bite hard." He held up a few of the same thing. "Pill cutters, but it would take a while to grind or crush anything like you asked for...what exactly are you trying to crush? That might help me narrow down your choices."

"I can't really release that information, but something hard, small and not easily broken up."

He leaned against the small examination table before perking up. "I know, how about this?" He produced a small mortar and pestle from a cabinet.

Sara took one look at the thing and knew that she was on the right track. Unfortunately she also knew that these were not the exact instruments that she was looking for. "Um, I'm assuming you don't use those while they're still wrapped in plastic?"

Tim grinned sheepishly, "No, but we don't really use those on a day to day basis either. If pilling an animal doesn't work, we just give them the meds in food. I can't even remember the last time we had to crush or grind anything. I don't know if we actually have any of these in use right now." He thought for a moment. "Oh, but I think the doctors have one in their office, but that's just decoration, sorry."

Sara smiled warmly. "That's actually very helpful. Thanks so much for your help. I'm going to need to take these items back with me, but...the doctors' office did you say?" He moved to the door and held it ajar. "This way ma'am."

"I'm hardly a ma'am."

"Sorry, it's a southern thing. This way."

Sara followed him a short way to the doctors' office and tapped on the open door so as to not startle anyone. The young doctor looked up from the paperwork in front of him. "Yes? Ah, Miss Sidle, what can I do for you?"

"I'm going to need to take a look around your office. I need you to step out of the room please." As soon as he was gone she scanned the room for the items she was looking for. It wasn't on either of their desks so she turned her attention to the massive book case on the far wall. An impressive number of textbooks, journals, and veterinary guides were punctuated with family pictures and...there it was. White marble and looking all the world like something used in years past, Sara hoped that it hadn't been disinfected, or if it had, that there might still be some usable trace on it. After bagging and tagging the items from the doctors' office Sara went in search of Tim again. She found him in the same place he'd been before only this time he was dipping instruments he'd been using in a blue liquid. Sara cleared her throat so as to not take him by surprise.

"Ahem."

Tim looked up and smiled. "Finished in there already?"

She nodded. "Yes, I'm all set save one question. What do you use around here by way of cleaning and disinfecting? How often do you to that? And what is it used on?"

"That's three questions isn't it? Ok--as cleaning products we usually use OdoBan. It works as a disinfectant too, but we mostly use Chlorohexidine and a centrifuge for that."

"You don't use bleach?"

"We don't use it over here, but they use it from time to time to give the kennels a good scrub down. There are a few cases of bleach being stored in the old hospital right now...does that help?"

She smiled. "It does. Thanks." Then she turned to leave the building. "Oh." She turned back. "I'll get back to you on that puppy." She waved and was on her way back to the makeshift lab wondering how to convince Grissom that they needed a puppy.

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**A/N2: Again, Reviews are most welcome.**


	14. Chapter 14

**A/N: This is it. Finally. Please review. **

**Disclaimer: (see previous chapters)**

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Chapter 14**

"Gil?"

He responded by snuggling into her neck a little deeper with a mumbled, "Yeah babe?"

She hated to do this to him. He deserved a good full night's rest. But that would have to wait. Their extra vacation started in two days--officially, but they'd wrapped up the case earlier than expected, much to Grissom's relief. He was drained both mentally and physically, and as such, would be more agreeable. "Baby there's one more loose end to tie up with the case."

His eyes popped open and he rolled onto his back with a groan. "What could possibly be left to do? We know that that female doctor is the perpetrator. All evidence was conclusive plus we have the sworn statements of some of the other employees who admitted that something was "off". The only thing we don't know for certain is _why _she poisoned the poor girl. I mean, we know that they were stressed about the economy's current plummet, but there's getting rid of someone and then there's _**getting rid of someone. **_She took it to the extreme--which leads me to believe there's more to it, but we're not in the business of _'why'_ just the _'who' _and _'how',_" he took a breath finally before finishing with, "What more is here?"

Sara smoothed the hair back from his forehead. "There's one more victim we haven't taken care of," she said softly. He started to sit up but she pressed her hand against his chest and held him at bay. Before he could freak out she continued, "as a result of Emily's death there is now someone in need of a home."

He shook his head, confused. "She didn't have children."

"No, not human anyway. She had just adopted a little boxer puppy--and Gil he's so cute! Her mom can't take him so he's going to end up at the Humane Society in some tiny little cage."

"And?"

"Gil I think we need a puppy." The words spilled out before she could think of a better delivery.

He turned to face her. Looking into her eyes his heart was softened and he felt any objection he'd had leave. He sighed. "Honey, you need to get some sleep." He closed his eyes once more and could practically hear her scrunching her face in protest.

"Gil..."

"No," he said, eyes still closed, "You definitely need your sleep...because tomorrow we're getting a puppy and I won't be left alone to play with him just because you wouldn't go to bed on time."

He opened one eye and glanced at her.

She kissed his chest. "I love you."

His chin. "I love you."

His nose. "I love you."

And his mouth. "I love you."

And then his mouth once more.

He smiled as she curled into him.

Four was still a great number.

**END (finally)**

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**Save a life, REVIEW. **

**A/N2:I don't know that I'll attempt another multi-chapter story in the near future. Depends on how this one is received.** TTFN.


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